


Your Eyes When The World Crumbles

by FullBladderLemons (orphan_account)



Series: Overcoming It All [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Heartache, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Men Crying, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners, Multiple Relationships, Nail Polish, Polyamory, Polygamy, Sad, Self-Acceptance, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 14:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11419473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/FullBladderLemons
Summary: So, this part will be able to be skipped if you aren't comfortable with some of the themes tagged. Part five will go back to the sex and omorashi, and I may throw some of that in at the end of this, but I am not fully sure yet. So even if you don't want to read part 4, which I completely understand, keep an eye out for part 5 because I will have the angst and other sad themes 99% covered by the end of part 4. Sorry that I upset some of you guys last night, but I just have had this idea in my head for a while, and I couldn't get it out of my head. For those of you that don't know, this series started out as an omo one shot of Yuuri wetting himself on the way home from a bar in Barcelona...And now, here I am on a planned 5-part series. So thank you all who have read, kudosed, commented, and stayed along for the ride. If I won't see you in part four, I hope to see you in part five. Godspeed, my friends.





	1. Alabaster Ice

**Yuri’s POV**

The first time I step back on the ice, my knees are wobbly. I feel like a newborn calf, trembling as I stand at the entrance of the ice, my knees ready to give out from under me. Victor and Yuuri are skating laps already, and I know that I have to join them. I manage to skate onto the ice, joining them in some warmup laps. Yes, okay. I can do this. My muscle memory will guide me through it.

I make a mistake by attempting a quad right after a single. Yuuri and Victor told me to work myself back into jumps; to only do singles and doubles today, and if I was feeling up to it, we could work on triples and quadruples tomorrow. But I am feeling up to it now. I launch myself into the air after a successful first single, and I immediately regret it.

“Yura!” I hear them shout at me from the air, angry with my decision. My name is spoken again, in a more worried tone, as I smack down onto the ice.

_We’re on his bike, and he’s driving much too fast. I cling to him tightly, the wind burning my face as I grab onto his torso for dear life. I shout for him to slow down, but I don’t think he hears me. I am aware of a wetness on my cheeks, and I scream louder than I could imagine as he makes a sharp turn. There is a loud crash, a snapping…It all goes black._

_Then everything is white. White and cold, alabaster snow. Now, it’s not snow. Ice…I lift my head, and I am on the ice. My skates are on, and I am alone at the ice castle. I shout Otabek’s name but get no response. My body is face down, glue to the ice below me. My limbs are lead, and I can’t move. It gets colder._

_Then, it grows warmer. The icy chill is replaced with a comforting warmth, and I relax into the feeling. Warmer, warmer, until- another crash. My limbs hurt, my head hurts. I scream but no sound comes out. I am warm, and then cold. Comforted, and then riddled with anxiety. I can’t breathe anymore._

My lungs collapse. I can’t take a proper breath in as I lie against the cool ice, tears dripping from my eyes and freezing below me. Victor is lifting me into his arms onto his lap before I know it, enveloping me in a comforting warmth that doesn’t bring any actual comfort. “My dream…”

“Yura?” Yuuri hand his hands on my head, and is waving his hand in front of my face, as if he thinks I hit my head.

“Yuuri…” I choke on a sob, sinking deeper into Victor’s touch. “Do you remember when I had that nightmare and you found me in the middle of the night?”

He nods slowly. “Yes, Yura. I remember.” His hand is now gently carding through my hair.

“It was real. It was real, Yuuri.”

“What are you talking about, Yura?” Victor murmurs in my ear, rocking me gently in his lap.

“In the dream, I was on Beka’s bike with him and he was going too fast…We crashed, and then I was really cold, I was lying on the ice. And then I felt really warm…And…That’s what happened.” I am weeping, but I can’t stop it if I try. “He crashed, making a sharp turn, like in my dream. Then just now, I was so cold when I hit the ice. It was like in my dream. And then I got really warm, when you picked me up, Vitya. It happened in my dream. It was all in my dream.”

I am vaguely aware of Yuuri and Victor murmuring back in forth, but I am crying too hard to understand their words. After a few moments of being rocked in Victor’s lap with Yuuri petting my hair, Victor’s voice is soft in my ear. “Yura, let’s go home, okay?”

I shake my head. “No. I need to practice. I need to get back to where I was…I need to get it back…”

“Yura…” Yuuri’s voice is quiet and soft, and he leans in close, so the words are unable to miss. “The rink will be here tomorrow. You’re very upset. Let’s go home, and I’ll make you a cup of tea, and-“

“ _No._ ” I pull from Victor’s grip, wiping tears from my face. I stand on shaky legs, looking down at where Yuuri and Victor are still kneeling on the ice. “I have to…I have to skate.”

Yuuri nods, his eyes owlish, as he stands. “Yura.” He says quietly. “No more quads today. Please, if you push yourself and hurt yourself further, you won’t be skating for even longer.”

I smile at him bitterly, tears still threatening to fall from my eyes. “Don’t worry about me hurting myself, okay?” The next time, I will land the quad.

When I try a triple and stumble out of it, Victor looks livid. He skates over to me, and I brace myself to be slapped across the face. Instead, there are rough hands on my shoulders, shaking me. “Yura!” he begins to rant in Russian, asking me if I am _trying_ to be immobilized once more, asking why I can’t just listen to him for once. He tells me to either listen to him as my coach, or get the hell off the ice.

A smirk finds my lips as I tell him, “You sound just like Yakov.”

I can tell he is fighting so hard to keep control over his anger. It takes Yuuri skating over and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder for Victor to drop his hands from mine, taking in a deep breath. “Yura, it’s only been a week. You are still in a very vulnerable and unstable state. I think we should call it a day.”

When I don’t respond with any more than a blank stare, Yuuri tries a different approach. “We care about your health and safety, Yura. Please. We don’t want you doing things before you’re ready to and hurting yourself. We care about you, Yura.”

I blink back tears as a realization washes over me. Backing away from them as they begin to spill over my eyes, my voice shakes as I address them. “Y-You don’t say it anymore.”

“Say what, Yura?” Yuuri tries to follow me off the ice, but I motion for him to stop. He obeys. “Yura?”

As I slip on my skate guards, I look at him with what I hope registers as anger and not the hurt that I am feeling. “That you love me.” 

I slam the locker room door behind me, and lock it tight.


	2. Erasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will put a warning in the chapter summary when the self harm is going to come up, so that you can skip that chapter/those chapters if you don't want to read that.

**Victor’s POV**

By the time Yuri unlocks the door to the locker room, I am near losing my patience with him. I hear the lock finally click, and I walk into the room to find Yuri sitting on the bench, his sneakers on instead of his skates. Taking it as a cue to put on my own sneakers, I sit with him and begin to pull off my skates wordlessly. Yuuri follows suit, sitting on the other side of Yuri.

Once the two of us have our skates off, Yuri still hasn’t moved his eyes from the floor. I look down to see what has him so mesmerized, but there is nothing. He is simply avoiding looking at us. “Yura.” He ignores me.

Yuuri is better with him, these days. He used to be more comfortable with me, but now, he seems to respond better to Yuuri. Yuuri has more patience in situations like these. Yuuri is the one who cried with him after Otabek’s death, while I refused to show the pair of them my grief. I cried with Yuuri, but not Yuri. I didn’t want him to see me like that, when he was hurting so much more. He has become even closer to Yuuri in the last week. I glance at my husband, silently urging him to speak.

With a slight nod, Yuuri clears his throat. “Hey, Yura. Is it okay if I put my arm around you?” When Yuuri shrugs despondently, Yuuri wraps him in a loose hug. “We love you.” He tells him, kissing the top of his head. Yuri shrugs, and Yuuri tries again. “Are you upset with us, Yura? We didn’t mean to upset you, Yura. We just didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Yuri scoffs, shaking his head. “How could saying that you love me be the wrong thing, baka?”

I smile softly. If Yuri is spunky enough to be calling Yuuri and idiot in his own tongue, he probably isn’t that upset with us. I reach out and ruffle his hair delicately. “We’re not mind readers, Yura. You need to tell us if we’re doing something wrong, or if you need something different from us.”

He shrugs and says, “Okay.” He can be so stubborn and petulant; it irritates me beyond belief, but I know he is hurting badly, so I don’t say anything. I hadn’t said anything three days ago when he had refused to go out to Kazakhstan for the service. I sent a card on his behalf, instead. He shoves his way out of Yuuri’s light embrace easily, and I figure that he is ready to leave.

I’m not prepared for the sudden intake of breath, or the way I can visibly see Yuri’s body sink and collapse. His sobs are sudden and broken, and he is leaning so far forward that his face is nearly in his lap. Yuuri reacts first, his hand immediately on Yuri’s back, rubbing small circles of comfort. “It hurts.” 

I reach down to Yuri’s thigh, where his hand is fisting his pants violently. “I know if hurts, Yura.” I pull his hand off his pants, instead lacing his fingers through mine. He grabs my hand almost as hard as he was grabbing his pant leg.

“It fucking _hurts._ ”

A lump is rising in my throat, and I can’t watch Yuri’s pain for another second without risk of sobbing, myself. I wriggle my hand away from his, attempting to stand up. I am stopped by Yuri grabbing my shirt. “Don’t.” he orders me.

I swallow hard. “Don’t what?” My voice wavers more than I would like to admit.

“Don’t go.” He looks up at me, and the second I see his glossy green eyes, I need to look away. I stare at the ground instead. “Don’t go cry by yourself because you don’t want me to see.” I’m easier to read than I previously assumed. He tugs at my shirt again. “Come back, Victor.” His voice cracks, and so does my composure.

Droplets fall from my eyes to the tile floor, and I wordlessly sit back down. This time, Yuri’s hand is placed on my thigh. As I use my other hand to hide my tearful face, I accept Yuri’s hand into mine. For the first time since I can remember, Yuuri is the only one _not_ crying. He pulls Yuri into his arms and moves closer to me so that he can envelop us both in an embrace. It’s both not enough and too much at the same time; I melt.

When we finally go home, after nearly twenty minutes of crying in the locker room, Yuuri emerges from the kitchen with cups of tea, placing them on the coffee table in front of us. Yuri is settled under my arm, Ester on his lap. Makkachin is on the floor, lying at our feet. Yuuri joins us on the couch, sitting on the other side of me and resting his head on my shoulder. No one touches their tea.

“Why do things like this keep happening?” Yuri finally asks. His voice is cold and apathetic.

I don’t have an answer for him. “I don’t know, Yura.”

“First Dedushka disowns me, then he is gone. Otabek gets _molested_ and crashes his bike. Why do things like this have to happen? Why do they have to happen to the people I _love?_ ”

I still don’t have the answer he seeks. “Yura, sometimes things happen in life, and there is no explanation for them.”

“Everyone around me manages to get hurt.” He pulls from under my arm, carrying Ester in his arms as he leaves the room. “It should have been me instead.” I hear him mumble in Russian as he opens the door to his bedroom.

Yuuri glances at me with a questioning look, and I shake my head. I don’t want to tell him what he said. Instead, I sigh deeply. “I don’t know how to make this any easier for him.”

“We need to be here for him. We can’t change what happened, but we can be here for him.”

It isn’t as simple as Yuuri makes it sound.


	3. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains self-harm. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with this.

**Yuuri’s POV**

He is slowly but surely closing into himself again. I can see glints of fear in his eyes, flashes of vulnerability as he looks at me. He has begun to avoid us, and grow cold. Of course, he would want to. He is hurting beyond what we can imagine. He is cracked, ready to break at the slightest touch. He can’t hide the pain from his face as he wishes to; I can see it each time I look at him. Each time he takes Ester and hides in his room away from us, every time he pushes himself onto the ice. When he asks for a break, and I hear him crying as I walk past the locker room doors. He is pushing us away, locking himself away.

I know it won’t be easy. I know he will need more time than I can even fathom to even _begin_ to heal. All of these things, I expect. There are other things, that I don’t expect, but I am still prepared for mentally. When I walk into the kitchen to find Yuri at the washing machine in the middle of the night. I ask him if he’d like to sleep in our bed, or if he wants help with the wash. I don’t show him anything but understanding and support. As he is in the showering rinsing off, I put new sheets on his bed for him. He thanks me through flushed cheeks and doesn’t join Victor and I in bed.

There are things that I am not expecting, and I am also not prepared for. My heart drops into my stomach when I open the door to his room after a quick knock, to give him a load of laundry that he’d left in the dryer. The laundry basket slips from my hands and onto the floor, and I freeze in place. Yuri stares back at me, petrified, the bloodied razor blade dropping from his hand and joining the laundry on the floor. He rushes to pull his pants back up to cover his thighs, but not before I see the exponential amount of cuts on them.

Swallowing hard, I speak his name. “Y-Yura.”

He panics, his eyes wild as his body begins to shake. “D-don’t tell Victor. Please, please. Close the door. Don’t call for Victor.”

I don’t know why I listen, but I do. I shut the door, stepping carefully across the room. My hand is shaking as I pick up the red-tinted razor blade from the floor, fingering it carefully. My mind is racing with things to say, things to ask. But all that comes out of my mouth is, “Yura, what is going on?” _Stupid._

He shakes his head frantically, his face looking no more than a deer in the headlights. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I place the razor blade on the nightstand, planning to dispose of it later on. I settle for sitting on the bed next to Yuri and cupping his face in my hands. “Yura.” I swallow hard, my heart racing. “Please talk to me. Please tell me why you were hurting yourself.”

He shakes his head, beginning to cry. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “Please, don’t tell Victor.”

I don’t often lose my patience, but in the state of shock and fear I am in, I do. I move my hands from his cheeks to his shoulders, shaking him lightly. “You need to tell me why you were doing this. And you need to tell me now, or I have to get Victor.”

“N-No, please…Please, he’ll be so angry with me…Please, I promised him.”

“ _What did you promise him?_ ”

His body trembles beneath my hands. “That I wouldn’t…do this anymore. I’m sorry. I’m so- “

“ _Yuri_.” The use of his name rather than his nickname makes his eyes shoot up to meet mine, pleading fields of green soaked with morning dew. “You need to start explaining.”

He nods, trying to take a solid breath and instead choking on a half-sob. “H-He found me with c-cuts on my wrists y-years ago…I was fourteen…He yelled at me, he shouted, and he made me swear I would n-never do it again.” He breaks further, his body moving forward as he fists the front of my shirt. “I’m sorry, Yuuri, I w-won’t do it again, I won’t.”

I wrap my arms around him without a second thought, my mind racing. I know I should tell Victor; I _know_ this isn’t a secret I should keep for Yuri. “If you promised him back then, then why have I found you doing it again?”

“It hurts, Yuuri.”

I am baffled. “Well of course it hurts, you just cut open your- “

“ _No,_ it _hurts._ ”

I understand, then. “And how is this helping your pain, Yura?”

He ignores my question, his head shaking. “Don’t let go.”

I hold him tighter, promising him, “I won’t.” I nuzzle my nose into his hair, breathing in the sweet scent of his shampoo. “Please, tell me why, Yura.”

“I can’t explain it. I can’t.” His voice cracks with frustration, his body shaking violently in my arms. “It just helps.”

I sense that I will be unable to pry any further information from him in his current state, but I think I have enough for now. “Yura, I want you to give me any more of those razors that you have. And any knives or…anything else. Will you do that for me?”

Nodding, Yuri pulls from my arms and goes into his nightstand. He pulls out two more razor blades and places them on top of the nightstand with the other one. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes again.

“Is that all?” I ask him, nodding to the razors. When he nods, I stand and scoop them up, turning to leave the room. “Wait here. I’m not going to tell Victor. I need to get antiseptic to clean your legs.”

I take the few moments alone to compose myself and still my racing mind. Fear is bubbling inside of me, making my veins blaze. I wrap up the razor blades in paper towel, taking them to the outside trash can to dispose of them. Back inside, I go into the bathroom and get the first aid kit. I hear the shower running in our bedroom en-suite, and I am grateful that Victor is showering.

Back in Yuri’s room, the first thing I do as I sit on the bed is kiss his cheek and hug him. After having calmed myself down, I know that he needs love right now, not anger. “Yura, I’m not going to tell Victor. But in return, I want to check you to make sure you aren’t doing this anymore. And if I do find that you’ve done this again, I’m going to need to tell him. Does that sound fair?”

Yuri nods, staring down at his lap. “I’m sorry, Yuuri.”

“I’m not mad, Yura. Don’t apologize.” I run my fingers through his hair gently. “I just love you so much, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You know that, don’t you?”

He raises his eyes with a soft nod “I know that.” Quieter, he adds, “I love you.”

“Can I…” I gesture at his pants, and he nods, pulling them down once more. I cringe as I look at his thighs, riddled with cuts on either side. They have stopped bleeding, and are now crusted with dried blood.

“I can do it; you don’t need to…It’s gross…” he stammers, trying to cover up the wounds with his hands.

I shake my head, moving his hands away gently and then opening the first aid kit. “Let me, Yura.” 

He winces as I clean the cuts with alcohol wipes, coating them with a thick, clear anti-infection cream before closing the first aid kit again. The cuts are too large to have a bandage fit over them, and they are shallow enough that they don’t need gauze. He pulls his pants back up to cover himself, and I stare at his face intently. Eventually, he beats the dead horse once more, telling me, “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “Don’t apologize, Yura. Just please…don’t hurt yourself. Come find me, and talk to me. I don’t care if it’s three in the morning. I’m here, okay?”


	4. Let It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: chapter contains evidence of self harm and implied self harm. Not the actual action itself, but the discovery of self harm evidence.

**Yuri’s POV**

_It’s in the locker room that Victor finds me, curled up in a ball near the showers. Practice had ended long ago, and even Yakov had gone home. He doesn’t see me at first- he is sweaty and panting from practice; he had stayed late to work on something, I realize. I try to make myself smaller in the corner as I watch him sit on the bench, unlacing his skates and tossing them into his bag._

_He rubs cream on the blisters on his feet, groaning as he pulls on his socks and sneakers. He buries his face in his hands for a moment, and I hear him taking a few deep breathes, muffled by his palms. There is a soft whimper before he composes himself, breathing in deeply as he stands and walks around the bench to grab his bag. It’s then that he notices me._

_“Yura.” He says cheerfully, immediately plastering a fake smile onto his face. “What are you still doing here? I thought you left hours ago.”_

_I shrug, not moving. “I guess you thought wrong.”_

_He laughs, but it is forced. “Come on, it’s late. I’ll walk you home, if you want.”_

_He steps towards me, offering me his hand to help me up. It’s when I take it that my sweatshirt sleeve rides up, revealing three small horizontal cuts. My face burns with shame as I jerk my hand back, mumbling, “I can stand up on my own.”_

_“Yura.”_

_He saw._

_I don’t respond._

_“What was that on your arm?”_

_“Nothing. The cat scratched me last night- “_

_I’m not quick enough to jerk away this time as he grabs my arm forcefully, pulling up my sleeve and looking for himself. His face goes red with anger as he spits, “The cat, huh? In three perfectly straight lines? I’m not an idiot, Yuri.”_

_“S-Shut up, old man!” I cry out, my voice much weaker than intended. I jerk my hand from his grasp and try to move past him, but he wraps his arms around me, holding me against his front. I am shorter than him, and my head is pressed against his chest, where his heart is pounding. It’s like a hug, but much rougher and nowhere near as comforting. I struggle to wriggle away from him, but he holds me tighter._

_“You stupid, stupid boy.” He mutters, before raising his voice again. “What is the matter with you? Why would you go and do that to yourself?”_

_I shrug petulantly. “Leave me alone.”_

_“I won’t.”_

_“Piss off, old man.” I try to wriggle free again, and that’s when I hear the rumbling in Victor’s chest. His body is shaking against mine in a way that only concludes one thing: he is crying. “D-Don’t worry about me.” My voice is only getting shakier by the second._

_“You’re an idiot.” Victor snaps, his voice cracked and wet. “Stupid boy.” His body is shaking harder, now. I don’t try to pull away again. Instead, I wrap my arms around his torso and allow myself to keen into his touch. His hand finds the back of my head, and he brushes his fingers through my hair before kissing the top of my head. “Promise me you won’t do it again.” He breathes out shakily._

_“What do you care, old man- “_

_“Promise me, Yura.” His voice is no longer harsh; he sounds sad, almost desperate. “Please.”_

_“I-I won’t.”_

_“Swear it.”_

_“I swear it.” I promise him, and he sighs with relief._

_He doesn’t let go of me, still. He holds me for the longest time; longer than anyone has ever held me before, even Dedushka. I breathe in the smell of him- sea salt and sandalwood cologne, worn down from practicing all day. Face flaming, I pull away slightly as I bark, “I still don’t like you, old man.”_

_He stares down at me fondly, a small smile reaching the corners of his mouth. His fingers run through my hair once more, and I finally get the strength back to scowl at him. “Come on, Yura.” He holds my hand as he leads me from the locker room. “I’ll walk you home.”_


	5. Fall Apart

**Victor’s POV**

Yuri is resting between Yuuri’s legs as I slip into his room. Yuuri is lying on his back, legs spread and napping, and Yuri is on his stomach with his head resting on my husband’s chest. There is laundry all over the floor, but I ignore it as I cross the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “Hey.” Yuri whispers, reaching his hand out to me.

Smiling, I take his hand and thread our fingers together. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah.” He squeezes my hand, as if to prove a point. “Lie down with us.”

I oblige, lying down and slipping under Yuuri’s arm. My other hand finds Yuri’s back, where I rub soft circles. “How long has he been out?” I ask.

“Not too long; ten minutes, maybe?”

“Did you sleep any?”

“No, I’m not tired.” Yuri’s hand moves onto my chest, and then snakes up to cup my cheek. “Can we go to the beach soon? Just you and me?”

“Of course.” I run my thumb over the soft skin of his hand, noticing that his nails are painted. “Anything you’d like to talk about in particular?”

“I just…” His face is soft and he casts me a sad smile. “I miss our talks there.”

I suspect that Yuri has something specific he’d like to speak about, but once we get to the beach the next day, I realize that isn’t the case. He lets me hold his hand as we settle on a bench, the familiar situation washing over me. We sit in silence for quite a while, nothing but the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling our ears. Finally, Yuri speaks.

“He’s really gone. Just like that.”

He is staring off into the water, so he doesn’t see me nod. “I know, Yura. It must be that much harder on you…because of how sudden it was.”

“Yeah.” He agrees. He swallows hard, and opens his mouth to say something else. He changes his mind, snapping his mouth shut once more.

“Yura?”

“Yeah?”

“You can talk to me about anything.”

“I know.” He pauses, and I give him time to gather his thoughts. He tries again, his voice unsure. “I’ve been thinking about…When we were back in Russia. Before…Before everything.”

I’m not sure what he means, so I cock my head to the side. “Were you thinking about anything particular?”

He continues to stare off into the water. There is something in his eyes that I can’t decipher, and I don’t push him further when he shakes his head. “No.”

“Okay.” I angle my body towards him, using my free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t be.”

“But I am.” I insist. “I’m proud of you for so many things, Yura. The list is miles long.” He looks at me with a roll of his eyes, but it only provokes me further. “I’m proud of you for accepting yourself, and having the courage to be yourself. I’m proud of you for how you have grown and matured, and what a wonderful person you’ve become. I’m proud of you for getting back on the ice and being so determined after having to take this season off. I’m so, so proud of you, Yura, for how brave you are. How strong you are. You’re trying so hard to get through this. You’ve much stronger than me.”

A first, I think he is crying from my praise. But as his face lands in my lap and his sobbing grows louder, I realize that these are different tears. “You have nothing to be proud of me for. I’m not strong. I’m so weak, Vitya. So weak.”

I stroke his hair gently. “No, Yura. You are so much stronger than you think. You would see it, too, if you were looking at it from the outside in.”

He shakes his head in my lap, looking out to the water as he continues to cry, his body lying on the bench. “Vitya, I’m sorry. I’m not strong at all.”

I brush his hair back, clicking my tongue. “Well, you are to me.”

He rolls onto his back, looking up at me from my lap with a pink, blotchy face and bloodshot eyes. “Hey.” He says quietly, reaching up to touch my cheek with his hand.

“Hey.” I answer, keening into his touch as he rubs my cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“I love you, Vitya.” His eyes are suddenly frantic, and his hand starts shaking at my cheek. “You know that, right? Even back in Russia, even as a child…Even when it seemed like I hated you, I swear, I didn’t. I’ve always loved you, and I always will. Okay?”

The wild fear in his eyes is enough to make me panic, myself. I lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, moving his hand from my cheek to instead be held by mine. “I know that, Yura.” I squeeze his hand reassuringly, trying to calm him. “I love you. So much, Yura. And I always will.” I smile at him softly, brushing his hair back again to press another kiss to his forehead. 

“Thank you, Vitya.”

I know he isn’t thanking me for the kiss, for my words, or even for coming to the beach with him. I look him in the eyes as I reply, “You’re welcome, Yura.”


	6. Landslide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains mentions of self harm and past evidence of self harm.

**Yuuri’s POV**

The first time I ask Yuri to check his body for marks, he doesn’t put up a fight. He strips down to his underwear, letting me scan over the back and front of his body. I look at his thighs, seeing that the cuts are healing up nicely. As I am bent down looking at them, I run my fingers over the raised lines. Frowning, I kiss my fingers and then press them to his thighs. Yuri smiles down at me as I raise myself back up.

“Thank you.” I tell him quietly, hugging him briefly.

“For what?” he asks, pulling his clothes back on.

I think for a moment, responding carefully. “For not hurting yourself.”

He shrugs despondently, pulling his shirt over his head. “You’re welcome, I guess.” He pauses for a moment, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I sounded like an asshole.” He wraps his arms around my neck loosely, waiting for me to hug him back. When I do, he says, “Thank you for caring.”

I’m not expecting to have my phone vibrate as I am getting into bed with Victor, who is already asleep. It’s a text from Yuri that reads, “Are you awake?”

I answer him back: “Yes, do you want to come here, or should I come to you?”

I don’t get an answer, but moments late, our bedroom door opens and Yuri slips inside, shutting it quietly behind him. I scoot closer to Victor, making room for Yuri. He crawls into bed next to me, so that we are facing each other. I reach out brush his hair back, offering him a small smile. “You okay?”

He shakes his head, averting his eyes from mine. “I just…Can’t be alone right now.”

I move closer to him, my arms slipping around his waist. “You don’t have to be. I’m right here, okay? You’re not alone.”

Yuri relaxes against me, burying his face in the crook of my neck as is to hide. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He tells me.

“You don’t have to. Just tell me what you need, okay? I’ll talk if you want, or we could lie here. Whatever you need, Yura.”

He snuggles in closer, and it almost feels like when we would lie together, waiting for Otabek to come home from work. I shake the thought from my mind, knowing that now is not the time to be working myself up and getting emotional. I need to make sure that Yuri is okay, and keep myself calm.

“I’m trying, Yuuri.”

I massage the back of his neck, kiss the top of his hair. “I know, Yura. I know. You’re doing so well.”

Yuri shakes his head, his arms wrapping around me. “He didn’t deserve it, Yuuri. He didn’t deserve to die. It should have been me. Why can’t I trade places with him?”

I can’t tell if he is crying, but I hope that he isn’t. “Oh, Yura. I know. I know he didn’t deserve it. But you don’t deserve it, either. Don’t you know that? It shouldn’t have been either of you. Please know that.”

Now I know he is crying; there are hot tears wetting my shirt. I kiss his hair as he whimpers, “I need him.”

I don’t have a suitable answer for him; I can’t bring him back, and I know that I am not a replacement for Otabek. I hold him tighter, kissing his hair every few seconds as he cries. It isn’t long before Victor stirs, rolling over and spooning me. He rubs Yuri’s back, whispering to him in Russian. I can only understand snippets of what is said, but it seems to calm Yuri down the slightest bit.

When he stops crying, his sobs turning into sniffles, he pulls his face from my neck. “I’m sorry, Yuuri.” He whispers. He goes to kiss my cheek, but ends up getting the corner of my mouth instead. He flushes a bit and begins to apologize, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- “

“It’s alright, Yura.” I smile at him warmly. “You don’t have to apologize, even if it had been intentional. Okay?”

He understands, nodding his head. “O-Okay…I didn’t know if I could still…” he trails off, cheeks pink.

“Of course you can.” I assure him. “But only if you’re comfortable and you want to; okay?”

He nods. “Thank you.” He shifts closer again, shutting his eyes. “Sorry for waking you up, Vitya.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Victor tells him, shifting away from me and getting up from the bed. “I needed the toilet, anyway.”

When Victor returns, he positions himself behind me once more. Yuri had seemed to be drifting off, but mumbles, “Better?” When Victor crawls back into bed.

Laughing lightly, Victor reaches over and ruffles his hair. “Yes, better.”

As soon as his breathing deepens and slows, I ask Victor, “Do you think he’ll be alright?”

Victor holds me tighter, kissing my neck, and then my cheek. “Yes, love. He’ll be okay. He’s strong. He’s resilient.”

“I think he might have learned that from you.”

Victor snickers. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” I grin, adding, “Bet he learned to be so stubborn from you, too. Poor Yakov.”

I can feel Victor smiling onto my neck as he presses another kiss to my skin. “If Yura wasn’t in this bed right now, mark my words, I’d have to spank you for that.”

I giggle softly, wiggling my butt just so against Victor’s crotch. “Next time, okay?”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”


	7. Emptiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Very very very very graphic self harm in this chapter. Don't read if you aren't comfortable with this.

**Yuri’s POV**

The first time that the **bad feelings** come back, I take a razor to my thigh. It helps, for a bit. I can calm myself down in the matter of minutes, watching three cuts form on my inner thigh. The blood is medicating; I feel okay after that. I don’t feel those **feelings** for a bit after that.

The second time the **bad feelings** return, I try to fix myself the way I had the first time. I take the same razor to my thigh, this time making two cuts on each of my legs. As I am about to make a third, there is a knock on my door. Before I can react, Yuuri is entering the room. I am ashamed, I am afraid.

The third time the **bad feelings** hit me, I do as Yuuri asked; I go to him. I crawl into bed with him, riddled with the loss of Otabek, cursed with the feeling of guilt. Survivor’s guilt, I think it’s called. I am guilty for living, when he had to die. It should have been me, though Yuuri tells me differently. I try to believe him, with every fiber of my being. But I still can’t shake these **feelings** , telling me that it should have been me.

The fourth time I feel the **bad feelings** , I lose control. I am watching the skating competition on TV, watching the competitors that I should be there with. I can only watch for one performance before I shut off the TV, flinging the remote onto the couch and pacing back and forth trough the living room. Otabek should be here. I should be skating. We should be in China right now, with Yuuri and Victor. But we aren’t. I broke my ankle, and Otabek is dead. Everything is fucked up.

Victor is napping, and Yuuri is showering in their bathroom. I know I could go to either of them and talk to them. I know that’s what I _should_ do. That’s not what I do, though. I walk into the kitchen, taking a knife from the kitchen drawer. I go into the other bathroom, sitting down on the edge of the tub. Rolling up my sleeve, I graze the knife up and down my wrist, shivering at the light scraping noise.

If it’s small, I can blame Ester. All I have to do is make it angled a bit, and then- _Oh, shit_. It’s too big; it’s too deep. It doesn’t look like a cat scratch at all. I panic; my mind racing as I think of a probable cause. I was cooking in the kitchen, and cutting up some- No. That is stupid, Yuuri won’t believe that.

The **bad feelings** are still there. The emptiness is still consuming me. It should have been me. I bring the knife back to my wrist. There’s already on cut; Yuuri is going to tell Victor. What’s one more? Better yet, what’s two more? It doesn’t matter; I fucked up. I have already ruined any trust we had. I can feel my insides eating away at me; my head begins to spin.

I feel suddenly scared as I realize how much blood is dripping from my arm. The knife shakes in my hand as I make another mark, still. I am crying; my tears land on my arm and dilute the red liquid, leaving orange streaks down to where my wrist meets the palm of my hand. _I fucked up. I fucked up so badly._

I hear footsteps in the hall, and they pause in front of the bathroom door. I hold my breath, but I can’t choke back a whimper as I watch the blood pooling on the tile below me. “Yura?” Yuuri’s voice calls from the hallway.

 _Don’t answer him, he will see. He’ll tell Victor and then-_ “Yuuri.”

My voice must be even more broken then I figured; the door is flung open in a second, and Yuuri brings his hand up to cover his mouth. “Oh, Yura. Oh, God. Yura…” He drops to his knees in front of me, tears streaking his face and hands shaking as he takes the knife from my hand and places it on top of the sink. “Oh God…”

“I’m sorry.” I sob, chest heaving as I struggle to take in a breath. “I’m so sorry, Yuuri.”

“Yura, no…Oh, Yura…We need to…We need to do something…Yura, Yura…” he is panicking, that much is obvious. I am panicking myself, and I can’t do anything except cry as I watch more blood drip from my wounds. Yuuri grabs wads of toilet tissue, holding them to my bleeding wrist. “Okay, okay. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, Yura.”

When he stands, I see that the knees of his jeans are stained with my blood. It only makes me sob harder. I press the tissues to my wrist as he rushes from the room, returning with a bleary-eyes Victor behind him. “Oh my God.” His reaction is similar to Yuuri’s, except that he grabs the first aid kit from the cabinet before dropping to his knees in front of me. “Yura, you idiot.” He is crying as he rifles through the first aid kit.

Yuuri joins me on the lip of the tub, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s okay, Yura. It’s okay.” He croons, his voice shaking as well as his body.

“I’m sorry, Vitya. I-I’m so s-sorry.”

He shakes his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he removes the tissues from my arm to assess the damage. He chokes on a sob, barely composing himself enough to wipe me down with an alcohol swab. “Does he need stitches, Vitya?” Yuuri asks.

Victor shakes his head. “I have butterflies in here. It’s just…” He chokes again, a sob rising in his throat. “There’s a lot of blood, but it’s not…It’s not that…” he shakes his head again as he starts smearing bacitracin on my wounds.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper again, my own tears increasing at the burn of the chemicals cleaning my arm.

“He’s not mad, Yura. He’s not mad. It’s okay, sweetheart.” Yuuri holds me tightly, kissing everywhere he can reach. I melt into his touch as Victor begins applying the butterfly-stitch Band-Aids to my wrist. “You’re okay. We’re not mad. Nobody is mad, okay? Don’t cry, Yura, don’t cry.”

I can’t help but cry. Even after Victor finishes applying the bandages and wraps gauze around my around to hide the cuts from view, I am crying. Yuuri holds me tighter as Victor begins wiping the blood off the floor, and I struggle to get out of his grip. “Let me, Vitya. I’m sorry, let me clean it, please.”

Yuuri shushes me, pressing my face into his chest so all I can see is the fabric of his shirt. “Let him, Yura. Close your eyes, okay? Just relax. I’ve got you.”

I’m not sure whether it’s Yuuri or Victor who carries me into their bedroom, but once we are there, I am left on the bed with Yuuri. He smiles at me sadly, brushing my hair back. “I’m sorry, Yuuri.”

He shakes his head, bringing his finger to his lips as his eyes go glossy again. “Let’s not talk about it now, okay?”

Victor returns, then, with a pair of sweatpants for me. It’s only as he’s pulling off my jeans that I realize there is blood all over the left thigh. He wordlessly changes my pants for me before leaving the room once more. Yuuri calls after him, but he doesn’t answer, or return. I begin to cry again; he is angry with me.


	8. Blue Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains referenced and evidence of self-harm.

**Victor’s POV**

I am not as livid as I am destroyed. I am immediately brought back to the only other time I saw Yuri was hurting himself, and he had promised me that he wouldn’t do it again. Anger and frustration bubble up inside of me as I stalk from the room. I leave the house, bringing myself outside to sit in the parked car. There, I let myself sob like I need to.

He had _promised_. Had he been doing it still, this entire time? There is no way; with all the times I’d seen him naked in the past months, I would have seen the wounds. He must have just began again recently. I punch the steering wheel, burying my face in my hands. It destroys me to see the ones I love hurting. Even back then, four years ago- it killed me to see Yuri hurting badly enough that he felt the need to do something like this.

I don’t know how to handle this at all. I am angry, I am hurt, and I am terrified. Had he been trying to kill himself? Had he been relieving stress? My mind races as I sit alone in the car, waiting until my tears have finished. I take a deep breath, composing myself for a few more moments before I leave the car.

Back inside, I steel myself in the living room before daring to enter the bedroom once more. Yuri and Yuuri are a tangle of arms and legs on the bed, and Yuri sits up when I walk in. “Vitya, please, I-“

I put my hand up to stop him from speaking. I join them on the bed, opening my arms and motioning for Yuri to fall into them. He does, beginning to cry. I am okay now. I am in a state to comfort him. I just needed to get myself together, first. “I love you, Yura.” I tell him as I kiss his temple.

“I love you, Vitya. I’m s-sorry.”

“I know.” I rock him lightly, rubbing his back. “I know, love.” I sigh deeply before asking him, “Yura, can we talk about it, or not yet?”

Yuri nods, his arm slipping away from me to gesture for Yuuri to come closer. Yuuri does, and I open up my arms to enclose him, as well. He holds Yuri’s hand, and I kiss them both on the head, continuing to rock lightly. “It’s okay, Yura.” Yuuri assures him.

Yuri nods, resting his head on my shoulder like a tired child. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you. I know I should have, I just…I felt like I needed to…Just once. And then…I couldn’t stop. I’m sorry…”

Yuuri speaks softly, carefully. “Yura, can you tell Victor what happened last week, please?”

Yuri nods, and I shoot Yuuri a look of confusion. “Last week, Yuri found me cutting my thighs, and he…I’m sorry, Victor. I begged him not to tell you…So he said, that if I let him check me for cuts, then he wouldn’t tell you, as long as I didn’t do it again.”

I nod, understanding. “Sorry, Vitya.” Yuuri whispers.

“It’s okay, love.” I kiss his temple, letting my touch linger for a moment. “I know you were afraid, and you didn’t know how to react. And Yura, you just didn’t want me to be angry with you. I know that.”

“This is only the third time I broke my promise, Vitya. Once before Yuuri found me, then the time he did, and then today. I swear it, Vitya. I _did_ stop when I promised you.”

“I believe you, my Yura.” I rub his back gently. “It’s okay; I’m not angry with you.”

“You aren’t?”

“No, and I wasn’t angry with you, then, either. I was upset. I don’t want to see you hurting, or hurting yourself. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Vitya. I’m s- “

“Don’t apologize to me, Yura. It’s alright. I know you’re in pain right now.”

Yuri curls deeper into our mess of arms and legs, whimpering. “I need him, and he’s not here, and he won’t _be_ here.”

“Oh, Yura.” Yuuri has begun to cry, whether from Yuri’s pain, or just the atmosphere. I force myself to remain strong, rocking them both as I kiss the tops of their head. “I can’t bring him back, Yura. But I am here, okay? Yuuri is here. We will do anything we can to make this easier on you.”

“I know, Vitya. I’m really s-sorry for hurting myself. And I’m s-sorry for upsetting you both, and being a burden, and- “

“You are _not_ a burden, Yura.” Yuuri speaks up, kissing Yuri’s cheek. “We love you so much; we need you here with us. You understand?”

Yuri nods, his expression serious. “Thank you both.” This time when he breaks down, I only hold him tighter.


	9. Silver Linings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor reference of self-harm in this chapter.

**Yuuri’s POV**

Victor and I don’t let Yuri out of our sight for a second. For the next few days, we are watching him like vultures stalking their prey. Yuri doesn’t seem to mind- I apologize each time I take him to the bathroom, sit with him as he showers, or supervise him whilst cooking in the kitchen. It’s what we need to do to keep him in one piece until we decide how to get him help.

“I really am sorry, Yuuri.” He tells me one night as he is in the shower, and I am sitting on the closed lid of the toilet.

“Yura, it’s okay. I know that you didn’t mean to upset anyone, or- “

“Not just for that.” He sticks his head out from behind the shower curtain, his hair dripping water onto his face. “I’m sorry for being a dick to you when I first met you. I’m sorry I was so hard on you after the finals. I’m sorry I was rude to you in your own home. I’m sorry for showing up here, uninvited, time and time again. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, and don’t say that I didn’t, because I know that I did. I’m sorry for doing this- “He holds up his wrist. “I’m sorry for being troublesome for you and Vitya. I’m just really, really sorry for the past three years. Okay?”

I sigh deeply, shaking my head. “Yura, you don’t have to apologize- “

“Yuuri.” His eyes are wide and desperate when I look at him. His expression is pleading, needing. “Please, just accept the apology. Don’t make it seem like I didn’t do anything wrong. Please, allow me to take responsibility for once.”

 _He has matured so much, yet stayed the same in other ways._ I want to hold him, to grab him and never let go. He looks so desperate, so hopeless. “Yura.” I stand, walking over to the shower. I pull the curtain back just enough to place my hand on one of his cheeks, and my lips on the other. “I accept your apology. But I also want you to know that I don’t regret a second of the past three years, and that I am so glad to have you here, and in my life. Will you accept that, Yura?”

He settles his face against my hand, placing his own over mine to keep it there. “I feel like I have all the support in the world. And it sickens me, because in my head, you and Victor are doing everything you can and I know that. But, in my heart, I still need something more, and it’s something I only had with Beka. It’s so frustrating to have all this kindness flowing into me from the two of you, and I just feel like it keeps leaking out. I feel like there’s all these cracks in me that Beka let there, and I just can’t let myself be whole again. I know how selfish and pathetic that sounds.”

“No, Yura. No, it’s neither of those things.” I press another kiss to his cheek and ask him, “Are you finished showering?” When he nods, I let go of him to lean down and shut the tap off. I grab a towel for him, pulling back the shower curtain and wrapping him in the fluffy fabric. “Let me take care of you, alright?”

He does. I dry him with the towel before tossing it in the hamper. I help him from the shower, helping him into his boxers and a pair of sweatpants. I pull his shirt over his head, and then I lead him into our bedroom. I instruct him to sit on the bed, and I go to his room to get his hairbrush and some hair ties.

I sit behind him, spreading my legs and having him settle between them. He wiggles as close to me as he can get, and I ask him, “Is this comfortable?”

“Yeah.”

I take my time brushing his damp hair, treating each strand like a thread of silk. I run the brush and my fingers through his soft locks, and he sits perfectly still for me. “It’s okay to feel as if you can’t accept mine and Victor’s love right now. It’s okay to feel broken, or to feel like something is missing. Something _is_ missing, Yura. _Someone_ who was very important to you. Everything you’re feeling is alright, I promise.”

He places his hand on my thigh, as if he needs more physical contact. “You’re trying so hard, and I feel terrible that I’m not getting any better. That I hurt you both by doing this to myself. I am causing you nothing but stress, and I’m sorry for that. I just…I can’t control my feelings right now. It just hurts so much, and it makes me want to do things like this.”

I still the hairbrush, pulling his hair back with both my hands. “Don’t think like that, Yura. We both understand. We just need to find something that helps you feel better that isn’t hurting yourself. We can work on that together, okay? You aren’t alone in this. We know you are in pain, and we want to help. It’s okay if you don’t know how we can yet. Everything will be okay.” I tie his hair into a French braid, long and reaching halfway down his back. “How’s that?”

He reaches up to touch it, nodding his head as he turns it. “Thank you.” He kisses close to my mouth before turning around once more, leaning back against me. I wrap my arms around his torso, holding him from behind. He snuggles against me, nuzzling his face against my neck. “Can we stay like this for a while?”

“Of course.” I tell him. “As long as you want. Are you comfy?”

“Yeah.” His arms cover mine on his torso, and he relaxes even further. “Feels warm and safe.”

I smile, giving him a small squeeze around his middle. “I’m glad, Yura.”

Victor finds us an hour later, when I am painting Yuri’s nails at the kitchen table. I’ve painted them a deep, sparkly blue at his request, and I am not putting on a top coat. Victor comes in with a shopping bag, placing it on one of the chairs before kissing me on the lips and Yuri on the top of his head. “Very pretty, Yura. I like that color.”

Yuri smiles serenely, resting his head in the crook of his elbow on the table as I continue with the top coat. “Yuuri paints nails so well.”

I smile at the compliment as Victor goes into the shopping bag and begins pulling things out. A chew toy for Makkachin, a wind up mouse toy for Ester, dog and cat food, kitty litter. A new can opener for the kitchen, a throw blanket for the couch. A pair of plaid pajama pants for him and myself, and a tiger print pair for Yuri. His eyes light up when Victor shows him, and he grins. “Where did you find those? They are so cool!”

Victor grins. “I have my ways.”

I finish Yuri’s nails and suggest, “How about we have a movie night? New pajamas, we can make popcorn and snuggle up under the blankets and watch whatever movie you want, Yura.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. Yura?” When Yuri smiles and nods, Victor instructs him, “Go on and dunk your nails in some ice water with Yuuri and then I want to see you both on the couch in your new pajamas.” The smile he flashes me as I follow Yuri from the room tells me one thing: _We can do this. He is going to be okay._


	10. Butterfly Kisses

**Yuri’s POV**

Yuuri accepting an apology makes me feel a shred less guilty about all the trouble I have caused him and Victor. I feel a little bit better; I feel supported. I have always been supported, and deep inside, I know this. But there are parts of me that can’t accept this- I feel like a burden, like a waste of space, like I have no purpose without Otabek. I feel as if I am encroaching on Yuuri and Victor. Deep inside, I know they love me and care for me. But, I have to fight through layers and layers of self-doubt and self-depreciation in order to uncover what I know to be the truth.

I am not allowed out of their sight, but I don’t mind much. It is better for me to be with them- it doesn’t give me the time to spiral out and let the **bad feelings** get a hold of me. I appreciate how attentive they are, and how badly they wish to keep me safe. Of course, it also riddles me with guilt. I am laden on their shoulders, a responsibility they never asked for. They say that they love me and they _want_ to help me, but I still can’t shake the feelings of doubt.

When I sleep with them at night, one of them always holds me tightly. It is the safest I have felt in weeks, with their arms around me. It feels empty, without Otabek creeping in after work to join us. But, I know this is something I will have to accept. It’s something I need to get through. I _know_ I am strong enough, I just need a way to find that strength inside of me.

They are letting me attempt quads again, and eventually, I begin landing them again. My leg has become strong again, and I am able to skate like I used to. It hurts, knowing that I was unable to skate this season. But I know I can get through that, too. I know that I have the power to overcome anything, I just need some time to do it.

It’s after practice one day that I make a mistake. Well, it isn’t really a _mistake_. They don’t see it as a mistake, but for some reason, it is a shock to me. It makes me feel guilty, and _wrong_. I skate off the ice, slipping on my skate guards. After taking a swig of water, Victor wraps his arms around me as he does a thousand times, and as he is moving from the embrace, there is a moment where our eyes lock, faces centimeters from each other.

And that is when I kiss him. It’s soft and light, warm and familiar. He reciprocates the kiss without a second thought, and it takes me until the succinct touch is over to break down. I have kissed him, kissed Yuuri many times- but that was when Otabek was still alive. It was _different_ then. We were _all_ together. Now, Otabek is _missing_. Things have changed.

As the reality of my actions washes over me, I crumble. My hand clamps over my mouth as tears pool in my eyes. I stumble backwards, where I am caught by Yuuri. “Yura, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He leads me over to a bench, sitting me down. “Do you need a moment alone?” he asks gently.

I shake my head. “Was that wrong? Was it wrong because Beka isn’t here anymore?” I weep.

Victor is the one who answers me, kneeling on the ground in front of me and taking both my hands into his. He waits until I meet his eyes before speaking. “Yura, this is important for you to know. We didn’t just want to be with you when you were with Beka; you weren’t some kind of package deal. We love you for you, and our feelings haven’t changed at all. You know that, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes.” I can hardly manage to continue meeting his eyes.

“I also want you to know that you have the right to feel however you do. Whether you still feel the same way about us or not is up to you; we don’t want to shift you either way. You are getting over a huge loss, and you need to let yourself grieve. Anything you are ready to do, Yuuri and I are comfortable with.” He pauses, waiting for Yuuri to affirm this.

“He’s right, Yura.” Yuuri agrees.

“I want you to decide for yourself, and determine your own feelings. So you don’t have to rush yourself for our sake.” One of his hands leaves mine, moving to cup my cheek. “Why did you kiss me in the first place, Yura? What feeling made you do that?”

I shrug, embarrassed. “I just…You were so close, and we had already so many times…I just…Acted on instinct, and did it.”

Victor nods, forever understanding. “And then what feelings made you second guess yourself about it?”

I can’t stop the hot tears that stream from my eyes, some rolling over Victor’s hand. He doesn’t move it, not an inch. “Do you think Beka would hate me?”

“Oh, Yura.” Yuuri’s hand is on my back, soft and gentle. “Beka could _never_ hate you. He loved you so much, Yura. You could never disappoint him. I promise.”

Victor nods in response, his own eyes looking glossy, as if he is near tears, himself. “He’s right, Yura.”

I reach out with my free hand, tugging on Victor’s sleeve until he gets the message, joining Yuuri and I on the bench. I tug on Yuuri until he moves closer to me, and do the same to Victor. When I can feel their heat radiating onto my skin, I am satisfied. I know that they don’t feel about me the way they feel about each other; their love for me is not like the love I had for Otabek. Our love is something different, and it is a separate entity for me to deal with emotionally. Sighing softly, I take each of their hands into mine. “I apologize for freaking out like that. I guess I just acted on instinct and then…Panicked.”

There is a kiss on each of my temples simultaneously, and I can’t help but smile at the touch. “We understand, Yura.” Yuuri tells me gently.

“You don’t have to hide anything from us. You can always tell us how you’re feeling.” Victor adds.

“Thank you.” My voice is fragile and weak, and I exhale deeply. “I love you both. And it’s…” I pause, my voice having shook too much for me to be comfortable with. “It’s similar to the way I love Beka. But, it’s also different. If that makes sense.”

“It makes sense, Yura.” Victor assures me.

“Is it okay?”

Yuuri’s hand rubs my back, and Victor’s grabs onto mine. “It’s okay, my Yura.” Victor whispers.

And then, Yuuri. “It will always be okay.”

Finally, I allow a sense of calmness to take over me.


	11. The Pieces Combined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: referenced self-harm

**Victor’s POV**

It’s been three weeks since Yuri hurt himself, and Yuuri and I have been trying to give him some trust. We don’t follow him into the toilet or the shower. We don’t hawk over him as he cooks, or force him to sleep with us. We have found, however, that he still does want to sleep with us most nights. I have faith in him, that if he is feeling badly or wants to hurt himself, he will come to us first. I need to trust him, because it seems that he trusts us; enough to tell us if he is feeling like he may hurt himself.

My suspicions are confirmed, as they always seem to be. One night as Yuri crawls into bed with us, he requests to sleep between us. “Vitya.” He whispers. He begins speaking Russian. “You won’t be mad at me if I tell you something, will you?

I shake my head, running my fingers through his silken hair. “No, love. I won’t be mad; I promise.”

He nods, keening into my touch and switching to English so that Yuuri can understand. “I don’t feel very well.” He says simply. “I feel kind of like…Like I want to…” he trails off, his eyes fluttering shut.

“You don’t have to say it.” I assure him. “Just tell Yuuri and I what we can do to help.”

“Can I…Can I just kind of…describe it? What it feels like?”

“Of course, if that will help.”

Yuri takes a deep breath, tugging both of us closer to him. “It’s like an aching in my chest, but it also kind of tingles there. It feels like every one of my veins is on fire, and there is a heat running through me instead of blood. I feel nervous and scared, and like my lungs don’t work properly. I want to…feel something solid. Something real. The pain…It helps me to know that I’m still here. It’s something real for me. It makes the tingling stop for a while.”

Yuuri places his hand over Yuri’s chest, right where his heart lies. “Is this where it aches and tingles?” When Yuri nods in response, Yuuri begins to rub slow circles over the younger’s chest. “How’s that, Yura?”

Yuri nods, his eyes fluttering shut again. “I like that. It feels…safe. It isn’t tingling as much.”

“Good, Yura.” Yuuri sits up a bit, running one of his hands through Yuri’s hair as I have been doing. “How is that? Do you like us touching your hair?”

Yuri nods. “Da.” His face flushes as he tells us, “I always like when you touch my hair.”

We stay like this for a while, rubbing and petting Yuri as if he is a cat. Speaking of cats, his is lazily cuddling with Makkachin in his dog bed, and I can’t help but smile at how similar Yuri’s cat is to himself. Eventually, Yuri speaks again, his voice groggy and quiet. “Thank you both. I feel a little better.”

“Do you want to talk more?”

Yuri opens his eyes, his tongue running over his lips thoughtfully. “I’m afraid.” He admits, turning his head towards me.

“Why, love?”

“Because I’m afraid that if I end up doing it again, you’ll hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Yura.” I tell him honestly. “But I would be very upset. Not at you; just at the fact that you were hurting yourself.” His eyes avert from mine, and he turns his head back so that he is looking at the ceiling. “Yura, I would never yell at you, or berate you about it. I am so thankful that you came to us to talk tonight instead of hurting yourself. That took a lot of courage, and I am so proud of you. I want you to know that you can talk to us any time you feel this way, and we will do everything we can to make it better.”

“You’re not alone, sweetheart.” Yuuri murmurs.

“I know that. It’s just…difficult for me to talk about things. And to…accept help. You already know that.”

“You’ve been getting so much better at accepting help, Yura. You have grown and matured so much.” I tell him. Adding quietly, in Russian, “I meant what I said at the beach. I still mean it now.”

His tears are sudden, and seemingly apathetic. He stares up at the ceiling still, eyes refusing to blink as the thin streams leak from the corners of his eyes. “C-Can you…hold me between you? Please…”

I turn Yuri onto his side so that he is facing Yuuri, and spoon him from behind. Yuuri takes the initiative to move forward, enveloping Yuri from the front. We enclose him between us, our arms and legs all tangling together. I kiss Yuri’s hair and neck, and I hear the sound of kisses coming from the front of Yuri, as well. “We’re here, Yura. You’re not alone. We’re not going anywhere.”

“T-Thank you. Thank you for keeping me in one piece.”

It takes me a few moments to realize what he means; we are quite literally holding him together at the moment. My heart aches.


	12. Conclusion

**Omniscient POV**

It takes one month for Yuri to be able to kiss Victor or Yuuri without panicking after. 

It takes a month and a half for him to start holding hands with them in public once more.

After two months, Yuri is able to go through Otabek’s clothes, sorting through what to send back to his family, and what to keep for himself. 

It takes Yuri two months and six days to stop crying each time a piece of mail for Otabek comes in the mailbox.

Two months and twenty-four days for him to be able to kiss Yuuri and Victor with tongue and not feel guilty.

After three months and seventeen days, Yuri is able to consistently go to Victor or Yuuri when the **bad feelings** arise.

He doesn’t hurt himself again.

It takes him four months to be able to be intimate with them.

The first time, he breaks down and cries after.

He feels guilty, like Otabek should have been there with them.

They aren’t intimate again for another few weeks.

Yuuri and Victor are patient, understanding.

It’s all they can do, to help the younger man heal.

He does heal.

We all heal, after a loss.

They say that time heals all wounds, but Yuri knows that it will only make them fade.

It’s been six months, and every now and then, he will still see something that overwhelms him.

He will break down.

Cry.

Sob.

Weep.

But he is _still here_.

He is _okay_.

He can overcome anything.

Time does not heal all wounds, but it does make them fade.

What seems like hell today will look like nothing come tomorrow.

_Be strong._

_Be brave._

_Be kind._

_You are a warrior and you will survive._

_Never be afraid to reach out to someone._

_You are loved._   
**~ Fullmetal Lemons**


End file.
